The Wiccan from Wichta
by ChimeraDragon
Summary: Based on the comment "This Dean. He's a Wiccan from Detroit." AU where a Dean from an alternate reality accidentally busts in on the boys.
1. Unexpected Guest

A cloud of dust and coughing greeted Dean and Sam as they made their way into their base. The sound of a body landing heavily startled them and had them both aiming guns at the dust cloud without a second of hesitation.

"Son of a bitch," came a soft, familiar groan between bouts of coughing as the dust started to settle.

"Dean?" Sam called cautiously, even as he looked over to the brother he'd been riding in the car with for the last 12 hours.

"Just a second, Sammy," Dean's voice called back as the dust finished settling. The man kneeling in a pool of dust looked exactly like the Dean holding a gun just a few feet away from Sam. He looked almost the same, aside from the dust covered clothing and a small duffle bag at his side. He shook his head and tried to wipe some of the dust from his face with only a little success.

"Who in the hell are you?" Non-dusty Dean demanded, gun still pointed at the doppelganger.

"Well that's not promising," the dust costed Dean coughed out with a small laugh. He manse to blink his eyes open and they were identical to Dean's. "I'm Dean Winchester," he offered, hands in the air to show he was surrendering. The move pulled his jacket back far enough to reveal a perfect copy of Dean's favorite handgun. "The Wiccan from Wichita."

TBC ...


	2. Sam's Out

"I'm Dean Winchester. The Wiccan of Wichita," the Dean that was covered in dust said with a small half-smile. He shook his head, sending dust flying everywhere, before looking at the brothers before him and waited to see what would happen. He made sure his gun was clearly visible, and that it was clear he was making no move to grab it.

"And we're supposed to believe that? Who are you and how did you get here?" The non-Wiccan Dean demanded gun still steadily trained on the intruder.

"I'm not entirely sure how I got here. I was trying to find ..." the Wiccan Dean paused and swallowed hard before continuing. "I was trying to find a cure for my Sam and apparently I mixed up 'escape pain' and 'escape plane'... hence why I'm _here_. Though I'm not sure why Cas didn't come with me. He was right there with me. Hell, he was helping me with the spell when things started to go a little sideways."

Sam lowered his gun, confusion clear on his face as his eyebrows drew together. "You ... were casting a spell? And you're a witch?" tone incredulous as he looked for any signs of deception.

"I'm not a witch!" the dusty Dean growled as he clenched his fists in frustration. "I don't do sacrifices. Or controlling people. I'm a Wiccan. I do protective stuff. And location spells, translation, and some pretty regular healing. I'm surprised _he_ ," a gestured towards the armed Dean, "didn't start up on this a while back."

"Okay... so you're not a witch. You're a Wiccan... and you're here because you screwed up a spell?" Sam asked, trying to get the situation cleared up. His head throbbed with the situation and the left overs from the latest trial.

"You okay?" the Wiccan Dean asked, hands moving down as he took an instinctive step towards the taller Winchester. His face was full of worry as he reached out to Sam. He stopped dead in his tracks as he noted the way the other Dean moved in front of his brother, stance protective, as he helped his younger brother sit on one of the nearby chairs.

"Just wait there a minute," Dean grunted as he helped take his brother's weight and get him into a chair. He kept his gun out but decided against trying to keep it aimed at his duplicate. Once he had his brother settled he turned to the other Dean.

"I don't think he wants to hurt us," Sam murmured quietly as he let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion dragging him towards unconsciousness.

Wiccan Dean moved forward again as he watched Sam slump further into his brother's embrace. He felt the pull to help the younger man, even if he wasn't his brother in this dimension. He took several halting steps forward, certain he'd be turned away at any moment.

"Can you help him?" Dean asked, worry and desperation clear in his eyes. He turned to the other Dean and noted the way the other had moved closer, almost unconsciously.

"I can try. We can try to heal him. I was able to help my Sam a bit... but without Cas? I don't know how much I can do. He helps me when I do this kind of thing. It's very draining. But lucky for us we're in a House of Letters," he added with a small smile. "And I'm going to need some supplies. I have my BoS with me, and a few things. I can put him to sleep so he won't have nightmares. It's the best we can do for the moment."

Dean nodded in agreement even as he shook his head a little at the prospect of working with an alternate version of himself. "This is beyond weird."

"You think I do this all the time?" Wiccan Dean scoffed as he took one of Sam's arms and gestured for the other Dean to do the same. "We'll get him to a bed before I knock him out. It'll be better if we can have him help in some capacity. He's too friggin' tall for either of us to carry alone. I assume his room is over there?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, surprised for a moment before he remembered that they were practically the same, aside from some minor differences. "Your Sam wanted that one too?"

"You bet. He said it was close enough to the library that he could go whenever he wanted without waking us up," Wiccan Dean replied with a laugh and a fond look at the nearly unconscious Sam that was practically hanging between the two of them. "Of course I knew because he'd trip my wards. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Right. What kind of wards?" Dean asked, genuinely curious as he helped lower his brother onto the bed.

"Basic trip wards. To let me know who's walking through the living area. If it's Sam, Charlie or Cas ... it kind of tingles. If it's someone else it'll wake me from a dead sleep. Just a precaution. We've never had an incursion in the base, but I like to err on the side of caution. Something my Bobby taught me," Wiccan Dean replied with a sad look in his eyes.

"Sound advice. My Bobby said something similar," Dean replied with a heavy sigh as they straightened Sam out on the bed.

"Your Bobby's gone too, right?" Wiccan Dean asked as he straightened his back and stretched a bit. "I know that feeling. I was carrying his flask around and didn't realize I was dragging his spirit along with me. You'd think a Wiccan would have realized, but we all have things we can be dense about."

"Truth. So, what do we need for this ... ritual?" Dean asked as he led the way out of Sam's room and quietly shut the door behind them.

"It's a spell, not a ritual. And not a lot. Luckily I've got an angel feather left. Gonna have to resupply my stock soon. And we'll need some myrrh, sanctified dirt and chalk. I've got the chalk... might have some myrrh, you have a sanctified dirt?" Wiccan Dean asked as he opened up his bag and started pulling things out. He pulled out a worn, light tan leather book with several symbols stamped into the material and dyed a few shades darker.

"I can check in the back," Dean replied as he turned for the supply closet he'd started organizing. Neither of the brothers could find an inventory list so they'd started on a simple one of their own. Dean had done most of the work since Sam wasn't in the best shape to deal with it.

Wiccan Dean moved to an open area in the atrium and started drawing on the ground, carefully copying from one of the pages in his book. He barely glanced up when the other Dean walked in with a couple of jars of dirt.

"What kind of sanctified dirt? I have new and old church. Consecrated grave dirt, or Vatican dirt?" Dean asked as he held up each jar as he named them.

"Any of them will do, though I'd save the Vatican dirt for something that needs more power. That place has been blessed so many times I'm surprised the dirt doesn't glow with it's own holy pretentiousness," Wiccan Dean replied with a snort as he finished the symbol on the floor. He'd taken off his outer most jacket and laid it on the back of a chair while he worked, which only showed off how dusty he was. "Any chance I can take a few minutes to get cleaned up? I can leave my BoS open for you, just don't touch it."

"Why?" Dean asked as he set down one of the jars and looked over at the book, curiosity piqued.

"Because you don't have your innate magic harnessed and the book would likely feedback to you. It'd hurt, but if you don't believe me, be my guest. Just don't say I didn't warn you," Wiccan Dean shot back with a challenging smirk on his face as he headed for the nearest bathroom to wash some of the dust and dirt off. "If you'd put the dirt, feather and myrrh in place I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Got it," Dean replied as he gave the book a wide berth. He really didn't want to get zapped today. He looked over his own neat handwriting and poured out the required amounts to the right symbols. "Hey, does this thing say it needs blood?" he called.

"Just a few drops of donated blood," Wiccan Dean said from just behind the other Dean, he grinned with the other nearly jumped out of his skin. "It's a connection to the caster. Helps draw the power from within. Don't worry. I'm not killing chickens or people. It's a little more than when we use a knife to check if someone's a shifter or not."

"Great, so now we just need Sam?" Dean asked as he smoothed out his shirt in an effort to look like he wasn't affected by the sudden scare.

"Yup. He's been out for a hour, should be enough to wake him up and get him out here," Wiccan Dean replied with a deep, steadying breath. "Let's go get Sammy and see what I can do for him. Then I'll work on trying to find a way home. Not for nothing, but I've got people waiting for me. And I'm sure a few of them are freaking out."

"I'm sure they are, if they're anything like my people here," Dean replied as he led the way to Sam's room.

TBC ...


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, stand back a bit. This might be a little intense," Wiccan Dean said as he pushed his counterpart away from the circle on the floor where they'd carefully helped Sam lay down. The youngest Winchester was still a little out of it when they'd led him to the atrium and helped him lay down without messing up any of the chalk lines that Wiccan Dean had so carefully made.

"Got it," Dean replied as he gave the other Dean a thumbs up before backing away.

"Here goes," Wiccan Dean announced as he snagged his book off the table, he took a small knife from his pocket and ran the blade through a lit candle a few times before moving to the symbol that had nothing on it. He made a small cut on his thumb and let three drops fall as he started reading out loud from the book, voice low but full of power and promise. He tucked the knife away as he moved back to his starting pose, even with Sam's head as he continued to read in a language the other Dean had never heard. It almost sounded similar to the Enochian he'd heard but there was something a little different about the way this sounded. More like a dialect, like the difference between the Latin from their books and that they you heard in the Vatican.

The circle began to glow as Wiccan Dean let his eyes shut as he continued to repeat one of the phrases from the book and the four corners started to pulse with power as the light seemed to pour into Sam. The youngest Winchester grunted as the light made it's way into him. He didn't seem to be in pain, but almost like he was being overwhelmed by the feeling of the power that was moving into his body and making him glow with a resonance in time with the chanting that Wiccan Dean was continuing.

The Wiccan Dean started moving around the circle; eyes open once more as he looked at the book, reading a new set of chants from the book as he went. The power and light seemed to flare as he paused before each item around the circle. His whole body was tense as he finally finished the circuit and his voice rose in pitch before a final flare of power and light rushed into Sam before the whole room fell silent.

Dean looked around the circle and noted that the three ingredients of the spell seemed to have evaporated as the light died down and vanished. He felt a smile come to his face as Sam sat up and looked over at him. "Sammy!" he called as he moved to help his brother to his feet. He turned to look at the other him as he got Sam to his feet. "Thanks man!"

"No ... problem..." Wiccan Dean replied as he swayed a little, just before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor, book open as it slid away under a nearby table, and pain clearly evident on the Wiccan's face.

"Dude!" Dean called as he felt Sam wiuld be stable enough on his feet for the eldest Winchester to go to the fallen man's side. "Um... this feels weird. Dean, wake up!" he shouted, checking the other for a pulse. He felt a wave of relief as he felt the other's steady heartbeat.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked, concern on his face as he knelt next to _his_ brother and his collapsed brother from another dimension.

"I don't know. He seemed okay a minute ago," Dean replied, worry also clearly evident on his face. "He's breathing at least."

"You think we should move him?" Sam asked eyes wide with worry as his hands made abortive motions towards the collapsed Dean.

"Probably?" Dean offered, his hands reached for the fallen man when the ground began to shake and a low rumbling cut through the building. Dean braced himself over the unconscious man just as Sam did when the shaking intensified. A bit of dust fell from the ceiling but luckily the bunker was well-built and nothing else was shaken loose.

"Dude, what in the Hell is going on?" Sam practically shouted as the rumbling started to die down.

"I would recommend getting off of my Charge," a familiar, gravelly voice instructed them. The voice seemed emotionless at first but there was an undertone that neither of the brother's could quite place at first.

"And who are you?" Dean demanded as he looked up through the dust to see a very familiar face.

"I am Castiel. An Angel of the Lord. But you already know that, Dean Winchester," Castiel replied with a slight smile on his face.

TBC ...


	4. Chapter 4

"Cas?" Dean gasped, mind whirling at the implications. He couldn't help the pleased smile that came to his face for a few moments before what the angel had said sank in. "Your Charge?"

Castiel tilted his head slightly as he moved forward to offer a hand to the two prone men. "Yes. Dean Winchester is my Charge," Castiel replied simply as he hauled Sam to his feet before offering his hand to Dean. "I was assigned to watch over Dean and care for him as my Charge. When he was cast into Hell to save his brother, it was I that gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition. He still bears my Mark upon his shoulder. As you do," he finished as he got Dean to his feet. He leaned down and scooped the unconscious Dean into his arms carefully, the motion almost seemed tender and familiar.

"What?" Dean asked, mind not quite able to catch up. He'd felt a tingle in his arm when this new Castiel mentioned that Cas had marked him when he'd pulled him from Hell, but how this newcomer knew the mark was still there, under his skin, didn't fully click.

"You bear the Mark of your Castiel. Though, he did cover it when he healed you after the fight with Michael and Lucifer," Castiel offered as he headed for the hallway. "Which room may I put him in? He needs rest. The spell was quite draining for him. His soul is drained. He did too much too soon. Though it did give me a way to find him and pull myself between the dimensions to find him again. We do share a profound bond after all."

Dean could feel his cheeks heat slightly at the mention of the profound bond that it seemed all Castiels and Deans seemed to share. He knew that their relationship wasn't typical Angel and Charge, but he didn't like looking at it too closely. "Um, the room across from mine should be fine."

"Thank you," Castiel replied with a formal nod of his head. He moved into the room gracefully and settled the Wiccan onto the bed with all the care he could muster. "He will need to sleep for several hours. More than his usual four to six hours. Though this place should provide him with a good location to regenerate his energy. Do you have a fan?

"A fan?" Sam asked as he trailed behind the others.

"Yes. An electrical fan?" Castiel replied as he looked around the room like he was familiar with it.

"Um... I think there's one in the storage room...?" Sam offered as he turned to go get it.

"That would be kind of you. Dean has a great affinity for the element of Air and a fan will help him recharge his stores faster," Castiel offered as he noted the confused look on both brother's faces. "Moving air stimulates his connection with the element of air."

"Affinity? You know, I'm stilling having trouble reconciling the face that a version of me is a witch," Dean countered as he held up a hand to halt Castiel.

"He is not a Witch," Castiel interrupted with an irritated look on his face. "He is a Wiccan, human Warrior of God. And his Sam is on a quest to shut the Gates of Hell forever. Is that not a worthy cause?"

"No, it's a perfectly good cause. But ... magic?" Dean asked as Sam disappeared around the corner, off to get the fan. "It's just ... something we avoid like the plague."

"Not really. If you're anything like my Dean and Sam. You use symbols to protect yourselves, do you not?" Castiel asked. Dean stared and shook his head. "And you have used anti-witch magic. Summoning magic. Seers, and exorcisms. That is magic. You just never thought about it that way. My Dean realized that a few years back. And he decided that it would benefit them to have one of them know how to cast more potent protective spells. And healing. Like the Men of Letters."

Dean blinked dumbly at the angel before him as Sam brought in an ancient, metal fan.

"I hope that answers your questions," Castiel replied as he grabbed a chair and pulled it close to the bed where Wiccan Dean was resting. "Dean needs rest."

"And you're going to sit and watch him? Like a creeper?" Dean asked, unable to stop the smart-ass comment from leaving his lips.

"Yes. I plan to watch over him. Though 'creeper' is not the right word for it. I am concerned. And I share a deep bond with him, it would be unwise for me to not keep watch when he is in a place he is unfamiliar with while he is unconscious," Castiel countered, tone tired and unrelenting in his certainty of being right. "But I appreciate your concern."

"Right," Dean replied slowly. "If you need anything... just call."

Castiel nodded as he plugged in the fan; which looked almost new _now_ , and aimed it towards his Dean's face. He nodded as the sleeping man gave a faint smile and the tension drained from his face. He turned and waited for the brothers to leave the room so he could sit closer.

"Do you think they ...?" Dean asked as soon as he thought he was out of earshot.

"Are a Dean and Cas from another reality a couple?" Sam asked, thoroughly enjoying his brother's discomfort.

"Yeah. You think so?" Dean finished, slightly irritated by his brother's arrogant attitude.

"Obviously," Sam replied with a shake of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"Okay," Dean replied with a look of concentration on his face as he processed the new information. "Makes sense."

Sam's head reared back at the off-handed comment, shocked at his brother's seemingly easy acceptance. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Dean replied as he gave his brother a questioning look. "What?"

"You just seem surprisingly chill about this ..." Sam made a vague gesture. "I figured you'd be..."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the awkwardness of his brother's comment.

"Freaking out?" Sam finished lamely.

"Why would I freak out? It's not like either of them is making us watch. Or flaunting it in our faces. That," Dean frowned as he pointed towards the room where Wiccan Dean slept, "is something that could have happened. Why are _you_ having an issue?"

"I don't know," Sam huffed a bit, hands flailing in frustration. "You just seem so staunchly straight. Gay guys make you nervous! And what do you mean ' _that could have happened_ '?"

Dean blinked at his brother in silence for several moments as he tried to formulate the best way to approach the subject.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in the weighted silence. He opened his mouth a few times but said nothing.

"Sam, I'm not interested in guys. At least, not for the most part. I'm kind of into ... _Cas_ ," Dean said after a few moments of trying to get his thoughts together. "We... kinda ... understand each other. You know? But I never really thought about it. And with everything that's been happening lately, it wasn't really something I wanted to think about. Seeing that Cas with his Dean? And ain't that an odd thing to say? I dunno. Kinda has me thinking about stuff." Dean rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort from talking about his feelings and emotions. John Winchester had never been the kind of father to talk about feelings. Hence the 'no chick-flick moments' rule.

Sam blinked in disbelief for several seconds before laughing and shaking his head. "Hey, I was wondering if either one of you was going to admit to the tension in the air. Nice to know you aren't that oblivious."

Dean leveled a glare at his brother. "Just because I don't want to _talk_ about it, doesn't mean I don't _know_ that stuff is happening. I am a _hunter_ , you know."

"Yeah, and we all have our blind-spots," Sam replied with a shrug. He couldn't hide the grin that came to his face as he saw his brother's jaw clench as he prepared to yell at him. "But I'm sure you just wanted to wait for the ... right time, right?"

Dean's hands unclenched as he rolled his eyes at his brother. "Yeah... I'm done. I'm going to bed. I'm tired."

Sam opened and closed his moth several times before he shrugged. He realized he'd pushed his brother a little too much but that he should leave him alone for. A bit. He watched as Dean headed to his own room and shut the door.

TBC ...


End file.
